Ashamed
by Skye Larson
Summary: Story told from the POV of a confused guy who falls in love with his friend. His friend is gay, and the school has a group that torment him. Short story.


They could even hang out sometime. Go to a movie. That was normal, right? For two guys to go to a movie? Would anyone suspect anything? They would go play basketball or something, just in case. It didn't matter though, no one cared what they did. Just you.

You were new to our town. You trusted us to accept you, because we accepted all the others that were here. But they weren't you. They weren't new. They were each part of a herd, protected from the wolves. You were one of the sickly or dying ones to them, they could smell it. So you weren't accepted by them, and you were culled from any herd you might have joined. They didn't want you here.

But you were my friend. You weren't anything more, nothing less. We had different classes, so I couldn't protect you then. You weren't weak, I just felt like I had to take care of you. I'm bigger than you. Your head only reaches my shoulders, you're lean where I'm bulky. You have short black hair, but when the sun hits it it looks crimson. Your eyes are brown, but when you smile they look amber, and when you're angry they look black.

They found you alone, heading for your locker after school. They grabbed you and they dragged you upstairs, into that empty hallway in that empty wing. You tried to fight them and you couldn't; You were over powered and out numbered. Did you scream? They say no one ever heard anything.

I remember going to your house after school, but you hadn't gotten home yet. Your mother thought you got caught up in the art room again. I knew better. That's how I found you that day. Going to the art room to see if you were working on another project. I stopped and talked to people. I wasted precious time. There was a feeling in my gut and I ignored it, because everything seemed so normal on the outside. I said hello to the kids who did it as they left the building, me entering. I didn't know what they had done. They looked so happy and carefree.

You lay on the floor, in your own blood and vomit. I picked you up gently, carefully, cradling you like a child. You didn't deserve this. No one deserved this. You weren't different, you just weren't like them. You were unique. Your eyes opened slightly and you looked at me. I heard a high, keening noise and it was you. I heard a small whimper, and it was me. Your lip was split. Your face was bloody. Your eyes were swollen shut.

Later they came to see you at the hospital. They wouldn't even come in the room. They watched from the doorway and sent flowers and cards, which you told the nurses and me to throw out. I stayed by your side all night and most of the day. I was afraid to go eat in case something would happen to you, afraid to let you out of my sight again, like if it happened again you would disappear and this time I wouldn't find you.

Eventually, you were back in school. Those kids didn't stop making fun of you. To them you were a toy that was indestructible. They thought they could damage you as much as they wanted without breaking you. I wouldn't leave your side. I was scared, so scared. If I left you alone, would you be okay? What would happen? But it was inevitable. I went to basketball practice. You came, but went to get a drink or something. They found you.

This time I noticed you were gone early on, and I didn't stop to chat. I left the gym with the coach screaming behind me, and I didn't answer. The hall was silent. Then I heard it. The muffled grunting, the squeaking of running sneakers. I followed the noise, and I found you. They had already started laying into you. I don't know how long you had been gone, but it wasn't that long. They had been waiting for you.

You watched me lose control. They were strong and they outnumbered me, but I was unstoppable for just a few minutes. Like a mother who sees a car on top of her child, I seemed to have extraordinary abilities for those few seconds. When they were gone, you stumbled over to me and latched on tight. I hugged you back, a fierce embrace. I felt you shaking and held you closer. I waited a few minutes, gave you a bit to calm, then whispered, "Let's go."

You let go of me, and side by side we left the building and got into my car. I drove us to my house, because my parents were out of town, and right now I knew you didn't want a lot of people around. On the drive there you held my hand, and it just felt okay. Actually, it was better than okay. I liked it.

Later, I brought you home. I parked infront of your house, and you invited me in. I said no, that I had to go home and start my homework. I turned off the engine. It was night time, and the darkness gathered in the car, surrounding us. It was quiet, like the hush before the sun rises, like the whole world is holding it's breath and waiting. It's different in the dark though. It's more like a sigh, like the world is relaxing and content. That's what it felt like as we sat in the car on your street, staring ahead silently.

Simultaneously, we turned and looked at eachother. A rebellious curl fell over your eye, the dark lock standing out against your pale skin. You leaned forward and I held my breath. Then your lips touched mine, and you were kissing me. Your fists were bunched in my hair, pulling me closer until I kissed you back, holding on tight. You pulled away after what felt like a moment, but was probably longer. Then the passenger side door opened, and you got out and closed it softly but firmly behind you. I watched your retreating back until you got in the door of your house, then I turned the car on and drove home.

The next day, at school, I felt dirty. Like I'd done something wrong. I felt like everyone knew, too. Everyone seemed to be watching me. Anyone who was whipsering, was whispering about me. Any notes that were passed, they were about me, about what I did. In the hallway we walked passed eachother, and I wouldn't look at you. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the hurt flicker across your face, and my ears burned. I walked faster.

Later, in the hallway, you tried to talk to me twice and I was detached, distant. People were looking. They know. They know what I did, what I thought, who I am. I tried to duck my head inbetween my shoulders like a turtle and disappear. I didn't want anyone to see me with you. I pretty much ignored you for two days.

After school the next day, I had practice, and for the first time in months, you weren't there. I felt guilty, wormy, angry, distraught, and deep down in that black part of your mind that you never want to admit to, I felt relieved. No one could point fingers at us if we weren't together. But I missed having someone in the bleachers laughing if I slipped up, missed looking over and sharing a smile with someone who was there for me.

For the second time in a week, I left practice early, without permission, without a real reason, too. I would probably get suspended from the team. But I had to find you, had to make sure you were okay. Because even if a twisted little part of me was relieved, most of me was worried and angry with myself. I felt so awful about the way I treated you, because of my own paranoid delusions. Besides all that, it didn't even matter what everyone else thought of me. The only thing that mattered, was what you thought of me. And I hoped I was still in time to redeem myself in your eyes.

Then I heard a scream, and I knew it was you. I heard the sickeningly familiar sound of quiet jeering, of squeaking sneakers and the scared, muffled screams of someone truly terrified.

It was harder to find you this time, and they must have had you longer, because you hadn't come to practice at all. They had you from right after school. I tried to turn them all into a bloody smear on the wall, but you called me back, and I let them go, because you were more important. You looked better than the first time, but worse than the second. You had a cut on your cheek, and the side of your face was swelling. You would have a black eye. Your nose bled a little, and your lip was split and red.

Pulling you close, I carefully got you to your feet, walking you back to the gym. I sat you on a bench and your head drooped and you hunched over, trying to hide. I saw the tears in your eyes, and I ached for you. You didn't deserve this, just because you weren't like them, just because you didn't look at girls the way they did.

I went and got some ice from a freezer in the coach's office. I ignored everyone, because no one else mattered. I found some paper towels and wet them in a sink in one of the bathrooms.

Entering the gym again, I hurried over to you and straddled the bench, taking your chin and tilting your head up, gently mopping away the blood on you. Tears gathered in my own eyes as I cleaned your bruised face and you watched me, saying, "I'm okay."

When I finished cleaning you up, I held the ice against your face, and you hugged me, exactly how you hugged me a few days earlier. Then I realized that I didn't need a mask for who I was, shouldn't need to pretend to everyone or be embarassed. Everyone should see my real face.

So when you started crying into my shoulder, I hugged you back, holding you as close as I could. I kissed your hair and told you everything was going to be okay, that I would make sure you would be okay. When I looked up, the rest of my teammates had stopped practicing. Everyone was watching us, including the coach. I hugged you tighter and tilted my chin at them, daring them to say something.

And someone did. With angry eyes, our starting guard ask, "Who did it?"


End file.
